


Survive The Night

by XENIZATION



Category: Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:53:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29107365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XENIZATION/pseuds/XENIZATION
Summary: Major TW's, please read the first page and see if you are sure that you want to continue!They would hang out at an abandoned lodge up Mount Ormond. Their time together was the perfect break from the boring conformity of their small, insignificant everyday lives.Clay saw it as an opportunity to shape their lack of experience into something powerful. He lined up nights of debauchery and rampage, testing their limits. Bullying, vandalism, and theft were essentially their weekend plans. It came to a point where they would do anything he asked. Nothing was off-limits when they put their masks on.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 2





	1. Please read! Important

**Author's Note:**

> Major TW's, please read the first page and see if you are sure that you want to continue! This is based on dead by daylight! I do not own the lore! This is taken and written dreamsmp style! I'm not trying to come off as stealing work, the lore is there to give information!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is based off dead by daylight! I do not own most of the lore! This is taken and written dreamsmp style! Im no trying to come off as stealing work, in ant way shape or form! i used the lore to give backstory/information as to whats going to happen! all credits go to dead by daylight! everything that's written in italics is lore for backstory, yes I changed a few things to suit the story!

**This book will contain a lot of triggering topics/acts.**

**I'll list off the trigger warning and you can decide whether or not you want to continue to read this story!**

**Please don't skip over this and later on blame me for no warning.**

**This story will conclude:**

**MENTAL HEALTH:**

**Panic attacks  
Drug use  
Alcohol use**  
  
**VIOLENCE AND DEATH:**  
  
**Graphic violence  
Described blood  
Physical abuse  
Torture  
Extreme violence  
Murder  
Graphic deaths  
Death  
Major character death**  
  
**OTHER:**  
  
**Underage Drinking  
Driving under an influence**  
  
  
**I HOPE WE'RE CLEAR ABOUT THIS! YOU CHOSE IF YOU WANT TO PROCEED OR NOT, YOU'VE BEEN WARNED!!! IF YOU CHOOSE TO CONTINUE IT'S ON YOUR OWN RISK!**


	2. 1

Grabbing the old and dusty leatherbound journal that sat in the basement he walked upstairs, grabbing a cold beer from the fridge he walked to his living room, plopping down on the brown leather couch. He popped his beer cap with the bundle of his keys. He threw them on the table and opened the book. He stumbled upon an interesting part of the journal, he got sucked into reading all the pages in it soon after.

**September 12th**

_I began my search in the summer of 1956 after hearing of the town of Logstedshire a place that had an unusual number of missing persons reports. America is filled with such towns. But what made this one odder than some, was that there had never been a report of a body found. Indeed, the number of open missing cases stood at a staggering 364, the last of which happened a mere ten weeks ago. So, thusly I embark on my journey._

**September 21st**

_It only took me a few hours upon my arrival to feel the malignant presence that lurked in the forgotten town of Logstedshire. Its buildings and structures in various stages of decay, all of them abandoned to the ravages of time. I visited the library in L'manburg, a nearby town. It didn't take me long to find information about the region. Once a vast, prosperous and sprawling industrial area_ _Logstedshire_ _, suddenly became a ghost town, not through the lack of iron ore, but on account of a series of terrible disasters._

_Once again, I had found a place touched by the darkest of evils, so powerful that it spread like a virus in the area, consuming the world around it, rotting the core from within. The locals of Wethersfield would not discuss or talk further of the town of Logstedshire. The locals acted like the sort of thing you would see in your weekly Penny Dreadful, their eyes wild with terror. What happened here?_

**September 23rd**

_I have spent two days in this derelict library. The archives are somewhat unorganized. But I have managed to learn more about the town of Logstedshire. I get this eerie feeling as I sit in that basement, but I feel a need to learn more. I have come too far now. I managed to piece some parts together and it seems like everything leads back to The Soot Estate. A huge industry with a mine and foundry and the former heart of Logstedshire. I found some police reports and complaints. But no sign of legal action. The archives here does not tell the whole story. But my mind tells me that I need to find this place. As The Soot Estate might sit upon some answers about these unexplainable disappearances I simply must go further. I feel somewhat uneasy as my comfort zone most often is behind a desk. But I can not be shackled to words and must instead make use of action. All I have managed to find out is that some deaths occurred and it was just shortly after that, that this...rot took hold of Logstedshire. I have tried to find my way and I asked the librarian. But she refused to even talk about it. Old maps in the archive show the way. But nobody is willing to take me. I will set forth tomorrow. On my ow_ n.

**??? September (?)**

_I can not explain what happened today. I awoke to find myself in this strange place. I have no memory of how I came here. My last recollection was of leaving L'manburg and beginning my journey towards The Soot Estate. The last part I had to travel on foot... A seemingly never-ending fire burns next to me. I can not even tell how long I lay asleep. This area of the woods seems to have no day or night, just an intolerable gloom. Unsure what awaits me but I will keep filling this journal. Maybe with a hope to warn others._

**Entry 1**

_Am I alive? I no longer know or care. I have tried to hike my way out of these forsaken woods to no avail. Multiple times I have tried to escape the fog and each time, I have come face to face with a nameless terror that stalks the darkness. A being in a human form. Even though I feel "human" is an exaggeration. It is a shadow of its former self. A horrid shadow. I fear I cannot escape this place, nor the being stalking these woods. I just barely manage to escape. Silence is key it seems._

_I have also seen, this...evil thing. This Entity reaches out to pluck those who fall into its path, bringing them to its hideous construct where it plays with their soul for all eternity. The entity curses these innocents with an endless game of life and death. Each death brings an awakening into a fresh hell where the hunt begins again. I am but a mere puppet in this grim theater._

**Entry 6**

_What defines reality? Is it just that you can taste and touch. Feel the pain as the blade slides in between your ribs. Taste the iron tinged flavour of blood in your mouth and the smell of death as the darkness takes you? Is it hope that drives you on? Hoping that the next time will bring your actual death, or hope that the next exit reveals a way back home. I yearn for some kind of escape. Be it death or life._

**Entry 17**

_The Entity is a force of darkness from an ancient place with no name. No sense of purpose other than to endlessly torture its victims over and over again. It is torture and not death it seeks as there is always an escape. Perhaps it feeds off our hope as it seems to offer it to us before dashing it cruelly at the last second. With each "death" I feel myself weaker, a little piece of my soul devoured by the darkness before I awake. I fear, eventually that I will lose hope. I wonder, then, what this dark entity will do with me then. I want to find out, but I fear the answer. Am I alone here? I believe I have seen traces of others as the beings hunt me. All I seek is that soothing, flickering campfire light._

**Entry 26**

_Each killer seems pulled from a place of great darkness, their own violent actions summons this most ancient of evils from its slumber. The Entity reaches out, taking them willingly into the place between worlds where it demands they do its bidding. They must hunt and kill the prey set in front of them. Some go willingly, others need to be convinced. The Entity tortures them until they are less human and far more thing. Until the last light of humanity has faded from their souls and they take up their weapons and sacrifice the survivors. The killers are needed to feed the Entity with the hope that keeps it alive. I am a pawn in this parasitic charade._

**Entry 49**

_My travels have revealed four hellish places, connected by one true evil. Each one features a past so violent and disturbing that it all ends up a jumble of things I will never forget. In these places of such foul thought, something lurks between the fabric of what we know as real and the dream world. Awoken by violence, it touches our world, calling the killers and victims to it. The more it pulls from the real world, the stronger it becomes and the more it spreads. I came seeking answers but I drown in riddles instead. I know not how long I will be able to carry on. I have all the time in the world. But only during the small pauses that I am granted. During the hunt my time is restraint. I learn more and more. But my hope and sanity deplete faster and faster. What am to become of me? Have the killers started out at this campfire too? I bid this journal adieu. I must focus on staying alive._


	3. 2

**November 1980**

_These things differ from time to time. But each acts in a similar manner, and with similar human physical traits. But they are more reminiscent of beasts of a burden even though I can spot some flicker of humanity. With scars and marks on their skin and body. As if they have been self-mutilating themselves. They even look dead. I fail to see some humanity in them. They are bent on finding me. But somehow they refrain from killing me. Instead, I am hung from one of those dreaded hooks. I keep asking myself why they do not snuff the life out of me themselves. But someone must control them. Might they do someone else's biddings?_

_I keep trying to understand them at the same time as they stalk me. I try finding something that can pinpoint their purpose. I wonder if they might be punished? But in that case, am not I in the same position? Being punished for something, as I try to escape and find some way out of here. They play their role. Without any diversions, they are like a machine that is set on finding any living soul. Are they without hope? Who do they serve? Is there even a master? I have never seen them rest or stop. They hunt until the hooks are occupied. But where do they go after that? Trying to find some answers is one of the few things that keep me sane. For now. If you stumble upon one of these beings you must run and you must hide. Without any sound.''_

_Death is not death. In this place, life is fleeting. To whomever might find this lore. I can but only provide you with one piece of advice:_ _ always move forward. _ _This is what keeps me alive, and have so for a while. If I were to advise further I would suggest you harvest every forsaken location for anything that might thwart the horrors that lurk within. And keep an eye on the gates. If they open you must flee. I hope my scribbles have not been in vain. If you find this lore, make use of it and pass it on. If you find me, bury my body._

**~Phil.**

Who was Phil? What was he on about? Was it fiction? Was it real? Hooks? Master? What's Logstedshire and L'manburg and where is it? God knows what it meant. He'd look into it more later taking a pause from reading the old dusty pages. 

Clay sighed, a tired look sat on his face, he set the leatherbound journal down on the coffee table lighting a cigarette that he had pulled out of its metal cigarette case, and sat it between his lips. He was sitting on the couch, his feet propped up on the table. His father, well foster dad had left him home alone, he was used to it. The Tv was playing in the background, some shitty melodrama was on the air.

Clay couldn't care less about it, he put the cigarette but to his lips and inhaled, blowing it out soon after. He grabbed the cold beer that was on the table, sipping it. He finished off his cigarette, grinding it out in the ashtray so it wouldn't burn past the brand. He huffed as old memories ran through his mind. Finishing whatever was left of the beer, he kicked his legs off the table standing up and stretching Clay turned off the tv and grabbed the book, leaving to his room. 

He threw the book on his messy bed, he took off his shirt. Bruises and marks littered his chest and back. He looked into the mirror a few scars littered his face, his dirty blond hair was messy, he had been at another one of Alyssa's parties the other night.

His tongue toyed around with his snake bite piercings. He eyed the rose skull tattoo that sat on the front of his neck. He remembers getting it one night when he and his foster dad got in an argument, Clay went to a party got shitfaced drunk, and ended up getting the tattoo. 

Clay sighed, grabbing a clean shirt and putting it on. Alyssa had invited him to yet another party, of course, he agreed to go, sitting at home was boring, especially when you're alone. He grabbed his phone out of his pocket, quickly typing out a message to Alyssa that he'd be leaving in a few minutes and if she needed anything else for the party. She sent him a text saying that the door would be open and that he could bring his "special treat" with a winky face at the end.

The dirty blond smirked showing his phone back in his jean pocket, he took his hoodie and slipping it on before he grabbed his "special treat" and headed for the door, grabbing his jacket and keys on the way. He shut off the lights and went to his car. He started up his car and drove off to the party, 

_Clay Smith was nineteen and had little to show for it. He'd stopped attending school after being kicked out of the Football team for shoving a referee into the stands. Yet Clay was a man of potential, who could light up a room despite his bleak childhood. At six years old, he'd been taken away from Orlando to start a circuit of foster homes. No matter how many times he'd lashed out, threw tantrums, and got into fights, they'd kept moving him to new, unfamiliar houses._

_His last move had been three years prior when his last foster dad, Clinton Andrews had picked him up from the adoption center. They'd been on the road for seven hours before reaching a small bungalow in Ormond. It would be the longest time they'd spend together. Clinton was too busy trading cheques from Family Services for drinks at the bar._

_Ormond was a small, stale place; a remote town of six thousand inhabitants where grey winters drag on for most of the year. Clay did everything he could to get into another adoptive family, but he changed his mind when he caught the attention of Alyssa, a beautiful girl who was convinced that she deserved better than a life in Ormond, and Clay, as an outsider, was her ticket out._

_Clay attended the parties she threw where everyone was younger than him and easily impressed, which he liked. He met the impulsive Jschlatt, who liked to show off, and the shy, naive Niki, who was Alyssa's best friend._

_They would hang out at an abandoned lodge up Mount Ormond. Their time together was the perfect break from the boring conformity of their small, insignificant everyday lives._

_Clay saw it as an opportunity to shape their lack of experience into something powerful. He lined up nights of debauchery and rampage, testing their limits. Bullying, vandalism, and theft were essentially their weekend plans. It came to a point where they would do anything he asked. Nothing was off-limits when they put their masks on._


End file.
